Reds and blues define
this film as surely as they do political parties in the upcoming election.
Initially, blues bathe the screen in odes to oceans and naval uniforms.
They slide right into a nuclear submarine, too, swathing the interior
with cobalt and indigo. But soon, deep inside, solar glare becomes alarm
lights -- and imploding stars. The question of competent leadership ignites
fires both in the heart and in the hold.

"We're here to preserve democracy, not practice it," declares Captain
Ramsey. Such lines echo a tormenting theme of our time. Played by Gene
Hackman, this commander earns, simultaneously, our respect, sympathy,
and disgust. We know very well that he would die for his men -- his decisions
may also precipitate an irreversible holocaust. Thus his performance as
the embattled leader plays off the greatest portraits of man at sea, especially
Captain Ahab (Moby Dick) and Captain Bligh (Mutiny
on the Bounty).

Released in 1995,
the film follows classic symbolism, with the submarine representing the
ship of state. Nowhere do individuals prove more vulnerable or isolated
than when shore recedes into mirage. Then government all too easily turns
into dictatorship. The threat of an ambiguous enemy forges the sailors
into opposing forces. Competing dooms (tyranny, mutiny, nuclear attack)
transform their lives into bedlam. A balanced script ensures that no one
emerges unscathed from the hellfire of responsibility.

The lives of all onboard
depend on cooperation during a crisis. Carrying this theme like a cross,
Denzel Washington destroys the chain of command in order to save it. As
the second in command, he must act as a counter force if the captain's
life-and-death decision proves wrong. In the heat of the moment -- and
many such moments occur here -- only correctness counts. Neither tenure
nor character nor even intentions matter. With a coolness worthy of an
admiral, Washington requests the keys to life and death.

Every decision made,
though, only boomerangs this vessel into rising or sinking in a desperate
search for survival. Where oh where lies the solidity of land and certainty?
Nowhere for a young officer untested by battle! As factions develop more
quickly than ballots, groups congeal into militants with weapons in hand.
The worst weapons, though, consist of both the missiles they shrink from
using -- even under direct orders -- and the missiles that may make all
decisions futile. The quandaries of nuclear button-pushers emerge with
a human face here -- and no easy choices.

Shades of blue drench
the entire movie, implying that the hair-raising plot occurs beneath the
surface of consciousness. There skin dissolves into flower and earth tones;
young and old become indistinguishable. At any moment, the sea itself
could make impossible decisions for all humankind. Nevertheless, this
film offers reassurance: democracy bursts forth in many forms, but none
better than mutual respect and humble friendship. See Crimson Tide to
celebrate this Fourth of July -- and every one after.